Follow The White Rabbit

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Month: October 2017

Stumbled across this accidentally on Twitter @jumpscareuk perhaps a little to late to join in on their page, but thought it would make an awesome blog to kick start my writing off again … AND … I get to include loads of trailers, clips and images to dress up my choices and basically entertain myself with one of my favorite movie genres at one of my favorite times of the year! So without further unnecessary babbling lets begin with my first introduction to Horror…

Your First Horror Movie.

I remember as a child, staying up late one night to watch a vintage Hammer Horror Dracula with my Grandmother. Though I got myself dreadfully frightened and fled to bed without watching the end of the film. I was hooked and this was the beginning of a life long passion with Hammer Horror and Christopher Lee.

2. The Last Horror Movie You Watched.

At The Cinema – Mother! … Though this is rather questionable whether this falls into the Horror genre or not? I believe there are some elements within the film which are generally ‘horrible’ …

At home on DVD – The Mummy (1939) – I was having a vintage Karloff evening…

(Only just realised the theme which loosely links both films!)

3. Favorite Universal Monster.

… Without a doubt …

4. Favorite Horror Franchise.

Resident Evil – The live action films and also the animated movies

Honestly ridiculous films, I know that! But they’re great fun, totally nonsense, over the top, don’t always flow or follow plot lines with any care or attention… Though this just doesn’t matter, they are simply lovely silly Zombie films…

5. Best Ending in a Horror Movie.

The Girl with all the Gifts (2016) – I know the book is better and out of all the vintage Horror there is with classic endings. I’ve chosen a modern film, despite the fact that I so very nearly choose ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ …

6. Favorite Horror Remake.

Rob Zombie’s Halloween – though it will never surpass the original (not many reboots do) I am a fan of Rob Zombie, especially his music, but also his films.

7. Most Disturbing Horror Film.

Antichrist – There are a lot, far more disturbing than my choice, but I wanted to choose a film that I actually liked and not just select a twisted one on reputation alone, as there are more than a few I would personally draw the line at.

8. Horror Film that needs a Reboot.

Curse II The Bite – Really Random obscure 1989 low budget B-Movie, because I wouldn’t want to touch a classic and sometimes wonder how cheap dodgy horror films would look like with a fresh modern make over …

9. Most Anticipated Horror Film.

IT has been totally unavoidable this year!

10. Favorite Horror Director.

John Carpenter – Because he is responsible for not just a lot of my favorite horror, but also some of my very favorite all time films… ever…

11. Favorite Horror Character.

*That Cackle*

12. Favorite Horror Soundtrack.

Demon Knight – Basically because of Pantera.. But there are so many Epic Soundtracks, including The Crow & The Lost Boys, Bram Stokers Dracula, Interview with the Vampire and Lost Highway…

13. Best Line in a Horror Movie.

“A brass unicorn has been catapulted across a London street and impaled an eminent surgeon…words fail me, gentlemen.”

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971).

14. Favorite Zombie Film.

More classical 1930’s vintage Bela Lugosi – White Zombie!

15. Best Scream Queen

Milla Jovovich

16. Favorite Foreign Horror.

Guess What – More Zombies!

Train to Busan… and because I like animated films, the prequel – Seoul Station…

17. Best 70’s Horror Film.

18. Best 80’s Horror Film.

19. Best 90’s Horror Film.

20. Best 00’s Horror Film.

21. Best 2010 – Present Horror Film.

22. Best Vampire Film.

23. Best Sequel in Horror.

24. Best Slasher Film.

25. Best Werewolf Film.

26. Best Sci-Fi Horror.

27. Best Satanic Film.

28. Best Death Scene.

JesusWept…

29. Worst Horror Movie.

Scream Films, any of them… Just *yawn*

30. My Horror Collection.

Rather vast, weird, obscure and quirky. From the 1920’s to this year. Including a varied selection of sub-genres. To list them all would take another month, though I am toying with the idea of a follow up blog (favorite Horror from the 1920’s to the 1960’s)… So I’m inspired and wanted to thank @jumpscareuk for jump starting my blog again…

31. Favorite Horror Film.

Is older than me, but there is something about it I just adore. I can’t count how many times I’ve watched it. I know it’s bad, the acting is wooden the Blood, bright red and desperately fake then there is the amusing the stuffed cat… But it’s still my favorite…

Like this:

Sometimes I lay awake at night and self destructive thoughts creep into my mind. It’s as though old me wants to drag me back into the darkness. I do not ‘fit’ into society’s image of the ‘norm’ (never have). So I question my life, who I am? What I want to be? If I should have been a mother? Looking back – thinking ahead. Lost in what was or what could be? Yet here, right here in the now… I’m just a restless soul who can’t sleep, questioning life to an empty orange sky…

Like this:

So mine is a simple life, I see friends I grew up with so fantastically successful, which makes me love them all the more, for they still have time for me. I’m not rich, never will be, I scrape enough to get by and that’ll do. Because true wealth isn’t measured in pounds and pence. It’s about being content, my life is simple. And I am content, which makes me rich in ways money can never buy. I love and adore my friends for all the support and fun they have shown me over the years, I’m so thankful, I just hope that I am a good enough friend to them in return xxx

Originally Written 05.10.13
Re-posted 05.10.17

Still valid, even four years later… Friendships change, people come into our lives, some leave, move away, drift apart and others remain like a core support.

Like this:

each day I pass – upon my way
a singular window of intense decay
the grime thick – obscuring view
no clear glass – no curtains new
grey dust and bird shit blocks out the light
no sign of life – not day nor night

now the curious thing is
not the dirt or decay
but the crosses upon the glass
that ward the way

Like this:

I love words.
The way they dance together to create illusions in your mind.
Scenes dressed up in 26 letters. Woven with grace to inspire emotion.

But I am a bumbling fool when it comes to the liquid poetry of the master of words.
Yet I am fortunate enough to have been witness, stood in the audience, entranced by powerful beauty.
Words laced together – impossible to decipher when poetry ended and lyrics began if they ever even parted company in the immortal dance of words and music.

I found myself with my eyes closed, tears balancing on my lashes, not completly falling… I’m lost, swaying, captured by the entrancing performance. The raw energy of the audience sorrounding me. All ages, all walks of life, all gathered… Singing, dancing, laughing, crying, drinking, kissing… Such naked emotion… Such passion…

I wonder how something, someone, can be so dynamic, brash yet so emotional. I am utterly swept away, I feel like I can leave my body and soar beyond this world, into the realm of words, where I see paintings created by illusion.
The flow of music maybe slow, it maybe near still, it crashes it flows, it rises and it is manic… All at once… In a interwoven creation of perfection from mayhem.

I am an amateur with words, a pretender, I bow my head to the surgeon of words.
Finally I allow my tears to fall free and it feels like raw love.

Like this:

But it was a shallow ache compared to the unbearable ache in his chest.
Raw grief gnawed away at his very soul.

Flashback memories.
Multicoloured vivid gore.
Steaming blood on white frost.
Tears sprung to his eyes and then froze on his cheeks…

He couldn’t remember passing out, but a thick head and a tender bump on the back of his skull lead to the conclusion that he must have been struck when they bound him tightly.

Time was disorientating – The lingering darkness could indicate dawn or dusk – Not as pitch as night nor the feeble grey of day. The ill light supplied no hint to location or circunstance. Yet slow lazy stirrings gave him to believe it was another freezing dawn.

Indeed it wasn’t long until a thin pale woman approached clad in furs and skins. She roughly checked his bonds grunting content that they were secure. She then placed the rim of a shallow bucked to his cracked lips, within fresh milk, still slightly steaming yet cooling all too swiftly – possibly yaks milk – he cared not and drank deeply with welcome relief.

The woman withdrew the milk and gripped him by the chin, dirty fingernails dug into his face as she tilted his head this way and that, then checked his teeth – Again with a content grunt.

“I am Onlo!” She spoke in the common tongue, thick with a strong rounded accent. “You are ours now – You are tribe boy.”
He wondered exactly what she meant by that, a sudden fear struck him, that maybe these wild people fed on teenage boys many many miles away from his warm safe home.

“You work for tribe now – You work – You get fed.”

That at least supressed his uncomfortable fears, but nothing could ease the heave grief eating away at his heart. Sadly he resigned himself to his fate and simply nodded in reply – to show he understood.
Onlo grunted again and worked to release his bonds. She cast her arm out wide, there was nothing for miles, just vast empty miles. “You run – Boy – You die.” He nodded again, and again another grunt in reply.

Glancing around the camp, as he rubbed the feeling back into his cold aching limbs, he saw no sign of the dozen traitors – The Kings Guards who had betrayed and murdered his father – were gone… It was painfully obvious that they had traded his life for safe passage home. Anger bubbled up from deep inside, an insane rage, only held at bay by that bitter grief he carried. Onlo had pulled him roughly to his feet, barking orders at him – somewhere between the common tongue and wild speak – that would be something he would need to learn swiftly.

“Your name Boy – What to call you?” The question cut through his foggy thoughts, he hesitated to reply. His Mother had gifted him a Regal double-barrelled name to suit her Royal nature. After her death his Father had started to shorten the name – creating a comfortable informal nickname that all used. Now his Father too was gone and he felt that the name had gone with him.

Yet he didn’t want his Fathers name to fade into obscurity (like the face of his Mother)